


Truths In Part

by zeldadestry



Category: Nikita (TV 2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Community: 100_women, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 23:53:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeldadestry/pseuds/zeldadestry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So she’s stuck being, not half a person, certainly more than that, but she’s never her whole self with Nikita and, when you love your girlfriend more than anyone or anything else, that’s kind of a bad place to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truths In Part

**Author's Note:**

> "found", 095, for 100_women fanfic challenge

Alex doesn’t necessarily like thinking of herself as a possessive person, it’s not as though she considers it some stellar and admirable quality, but she knows she is one and she’s been taught, all her life, to be unashamed of who she is.

“I’m not apologizing,” she says, as the guy who was hitting on Nikki makes his quick retreat.

“I’m not asking you to,” Nikki says, leaning against her.

“Good.”

 

She never knows exactly what’s going to set her off. It’s not about how attractive someone is, or how close they get to Nikki, or how frequently they touch her, because Alex knows she’s not going to lose Nikita to someone who’s just lusting after her. 

But what she really can’t handle are Nikita’s friends, that’s the fucked up part. Like Michael? He drives her insane and she can’t even articulate why, other than that Nikita listens to everything he says with complete attention, with an intensity that Alex feels should belong to her and to no one else. And maybe it makes her a hypocrite, wanting Nikita to be only and wholly hers, when there are so many aspects of her own life that she can’t talk to Nikita about, not even vaguely or with allusions. And, even if Alex’s secrets weren’t information that could put Nikita in danger, no one really wants to hear the “All my money comes from my family’s vast international crime syndicate!” speech anyway. So she’s stuck being, not half a person, certainly more than that, but she’s never her whole self with Nikita and, when you love your girlfriend more than anyone or anything else, that’s kind of a bad place to be. 

 

“I wish Nikita could move in with me,” she tells Sonia, her best friend. Like Nikita, Sonia’s been supplied with a cover story that explains Alex’s need for security personnel but doesn’t specify the nature of her family’s notoriety. 

Sonia smiles at her. “Well, why don’t you try asking her? From what I’ve seen, she wants what you want.”

“Yeah, well.”

“Well, what?”

“My stepfather- he would- have concerns.” 

“And those concerns would not be your responsibility.” 

Yeah, but that‘s exactly what worries Alex so much. “Right. They would be his.” 

“Alex, you’re a grown woman. Don’t let him intimidate you. You should do what you want.” Sonia reaches across the table and takes her hand. “Do what makes you happy.”

Alex looks into Sonia’s beautiful, sincere eyes. Her dilemma must seem so simple, Alex knows, to a person who’s never heard of Gogol. She won’t attempt to convince Sonia of what is and isn’t possible, nor does she ever let herself imagine that she has more freedom than she really does. That kind of delusion could get people killed. Still, she knows what she wants, even if she can’t make it happen. If she could run away with Nikki, leave everything behind but each other, she would. 

 

“I see in the reports that you have a girlfriend,” Sergei says.

Alex winces. She shouldn’t be surprised that he collects intel on her, she expected it, but it’s still gross to know it for a fact. “So?”

“Anyone you care about, anyone who spends so much time with you, becomes another one of my many concerns.”

“What do you want?” Alex asks, seeking to end the conversation as quickly as possible.

“Just to see you, dearest, make sure you are well.”

 

“I thought my pesto gnocchi was your favorite?”

“No, I mean, yeah, it’s delicious,” Alex says, putting down her fork and giving up her pretense of eating dinner since it obviously wasn’t working in the first place. “I’m just-”

“What?”

“It’s my stepfather.” Alex pushes her wine glass further away from her. She usually loves merlot but, when she’s anxious, any shade of red can make her think of blood. “He’s arriving in New York for a business meeting in a few days and he wants to meet you.”

Nikita raises her eyebrows. “Yeah, from your expression, I think I’ll skip the introduction.”

“That’s not a good idea. He’s-” Alex frowns, the word dangerous must be avoided at all costs, “an intense person and it’s just easier not to piss him off.” It’s our only safe way forward, is what she really thinks. He knows about Nikita, now, and there’s nothing Alex can do to change that. Her only defense here is to prove to him that Nikita’s not a threat, that she’s no one he needs to worry about.

 

Michael drives them back to Division. Whenever she’s in a good mood, Nikita teases him until he turns on the radio, but today they ride in silence. There’s no place for her to put her feelings. Yes, she’s on a mission, yes, she’s playing a role, but that doesn’t mean Alex doesn’t matter to her. What there is between them- yeah, sometimes she wishes it could be real. Her relationship with Alex is about much more than the job, but there’s no one she can talk to about that. Admitting something like that to anyone involved with Division would be like saying, “I can’t do this anymore.” And if Division has no use for you? Say goodbye, bang bang. I have no friends, she thinks, not for the first time, not even for the first thousandth time. 

“Something’s bothering you,” Michael finally says, when they’re only twenty miles out.

“You’re just figuring that out now?”

He glances at her. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“What would that help?”

Michael clears his throat. “Well, if we can clarify the problem, really put it into perspective, then we can look for the best solution.”

“Do you know what she told me today, Michael? She said she’s in love with me. She loves me.”

He reaches over and squeezes her elbow and she’s grateful that he cares, even though nothing he can do would really reassure her. “She’ll be ok,” he says. How the fuck can he know that? Who the hell does he think he is? “She’ll be ok,” he repeats, and she realizes he’s trying to convince himself, too. 

They don’t fucking know that. Alex could get over it in a month or so or it could be something that will hurt her for the rest of her life, so Nikita’s only reply is, “I hope so.”

 

“Alexandra? This is Ari, Ari Tasarov.”

“Yes?” She figures the “what the hell do you want?” is communicated without speaking. 

“I have- unfortunate news.”

“My mom? Is my mom ok?”

“Yes, she’s safe. It’s your father, he’s been kidnapped.”

“He’s not my-” she stops in the middle of her automatic response when she realizes what he’s just told her. “Shit.”

“I am not telling you this to scare you, only to impress upon you the necessity of remaining with your security team at all times until we can be certain that you are not also a target. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she answers, dazed. She ends the call. This is- not good. She’s at Nikita’s building, not her own, so her bodyguard is waiting at the coffee shop on the ground floor, not the adjoining apartment. She opens her handbag and takes out her pistol. She hates the weapon, she always has, although she spent the hours of practice it took to become an excellent shot. Guns mean nothing good, they only mean that she or someone she cares about is under threat. 

“What are you doing?” Nikita says, from the doorway.

Alex examines her, confused by her calm reaction to the firearm. “We’re in trouble,” she says.

“Why do you say that?”

“My stepfather’s been kidnapped. His head of security is afraid I’m the next target.” 

“Ok.”

What the fuck? Does she not understand how serious this is? “They’re gonna come after us next!” Alex shouts.

“No, they’re not,” Nikita says, and her voice, all business, tramples on every last one of Alex’s nerves. 

“You’re in on this,” Alex realizes, raising the gun.

Nikita displays both her empty hands. “This was about Semak, Alex, only him. You’re completely safe.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I wish I could tell you more, I really do, but all that matters now is that you know I would never willingly hurt you.”

“I said shut up.” She needs to think. She- shit, she feels so bad for her mom and, following that, a twinge of guilt because she knows she’s not going to risk her own safety to protect him. He’s never been more to her than the man who tried, and failed, to take over for her father. No, she won’t spare any more energy on Sergei, whatever is going to happen to him is beyond her control now. When she gets to a safe place, she’ll call Tasarov, give him all the information she has. Still, she wants Nikita to understand she is not helpless here. “I could take you as a hostage, use you as collateral, trade you for him.” 

“Is that what you want?” 

Alex lowers the gun, but keeps it in her hand. “No.” 

Nikita opens her arms. “Babe, come here.” Alex shakes her head, takes a moment to wipe her cheek dry. “Babe,” Nikita says, again, and Alex hears so much affection there, hears so much that used to make her happy and now just makes her sick.

“I always thought you shoulda been a fuckin movie star,” she says. “You have such a beautiful face. And now I know what an amazing actor you are, too.” 

“This was the last thing I ever wanted. I wasn’t at that club for you.”

“You were there to back up Michael.” It makes sense. Alex remembers how he approached her, bought her a drink, started a conversation, flirted, and the very words she said to him after he asked her to dance: “You seem like a cool guy, but I’m way more into your friend.” It felt so real, she wants to say. Yeah, there’s a part of her desperate for any kind of assurance that it was. She’s not stupid, though. Nikita’s a liar, not by nature, perhaps, but by training, and Alex needs to protect herself, now, needs Nikita to believe that, knowing the truth, every connection between them is broken. 

“Alex, I am so sorry.”

They talked about Dostoevsky, once. Well, Alex did. She’d been struggling with a paper and Nikita said, tell me about it, maybe that’ll help, so they sat down together on the couch, Nikita’s arms around her, while Alex rambled, about revenge and forgiveness, love and desire, until she saw the thread she wanted to follow, until she could visualize the framework of her analysis. “I hate you.”

Nikita takes another step forward. Her eyes are wet. “I don’t believe you,” she murmurs.

“I wish I never met you.” Nikita reaches her, holds Alex’s face between her warm hands. “I wish you were dead.” Nikita touches Alex’s face with her fingertips, traces her features, until Alex shivers. “Nikita-” her voice cracks, fails her, she closes her eyes. Nikita kisses her and Alex chases after one last taste. 

“Look at me,” Nikita orders, after their mouths break apart. Alex shakes her head. “Look at me, just once, one last time, because I want you to see.” Nikita takes her hand. “I care about you, you matter to me. Look at me. Believe me.” 

Alex obeys.


End file.
